Absurdity is my friend, and why I (usually) like the internet

I was totally thrilled to win this gorgeous art book, Absurdity is my friend: art and stories from the desert, last week from the Ever-Fabulous Ricë Freeman-Zachary over at the Voodoo Cafe. It's by artist Kelly Moore, and I can't say why I love this guy, and his art, better than I did in my comment on Ricë's giveaway post. This is what I wrote:

"I first heard about Kelly when you wrote about him originally, and I instantly fell in love with is work. (I've also subscribed to his newsletter since then, which is always quite interesting, to say the least!)

I love his creative spelling and his poetry. I love his dark birds, and his ongoing issues with getting MOMA to exhibit his work. :0) I love the variety of imaginative creatures and faces he paints. And I LOVE his use of color, because I can feel his art as well as see it. There is a raw truth and genuine-ness to his words and his art that I haven't found in too many other artists. I would rather look at one of his oily on wood pieces than another ho-hum landscape on a proper canvas any day."

It's true! Just look at this.

from the book Absurdity is my friend, by Kelly Moore

Isn't it fabulous?!

And here's one of my favorite poems.

~ Kelly Moore

You can get your very own copy of this gorgeous book, which Raw Vision Magazine has described as:

"An attractive book which is an impressive documentation of Moore's work"

Raw Vision knows about these things, since it's the the world's leading magazine on contemporary folk art, outsider art and art brut.

Kelley's website is http://www.kellymoore.net/, where you can see a lot more of his art, read his poetry, sign up for his newsletter, AND order his book. There's also a growing list of independent bookstores which carry it. :0)

There is also some pretty terrific photography in this book, and on Kelley's website, by his partner photographer Kat Livengood. Her website is at www.katlivengood.com and she's on facebook, too, at https://www.facebook.com/katlivengood.

Kelly paints and shows his work Spring through Fall at the Tesuque Pueblo Flea Market just outside of Santa Fe, New Mexico.

Thank you Ricë and Kelly! I LOVE this book!

So that's why I really, really like the internet (usually). All that art! And the fantastic people (like YOU!) from all parts of the world that I couldn't meet any other way.


Then there are days like today, when the internet just seems like an obstacle to getting things done. Actually, it's probably not the internet, but I refer to almost everything having to do with the computer as the internet. My husband tries to correct me and tell me what the real situation might, or might not, be. And, I'll admit it, when he starts to speak computer to me (he can write software, because he's a design engineer), I start to speak German to him. Ha! Then he can see what computer-speak sounds like to me. A foreign language. Am I right?

Anyway, my Yahoo e-mail address has been kicking me out of my account whenever I try to send an e-mail, and it turns out that only a small portion of each e-mail is actually sent. (I can't tell you how many e-mails I sent before I realized this. That was even more annoying) The rest of the e-mail is floating around out in the ether somewhere. And I certainly don't remember all the eloquent phrases I've written by the time I've already hit "send" and come to find out that most of them were lost.

Poof! Gone.

Ahhhh! Technology!

I did manage to doodle a bit in a sketchbook!

I've been thinking about our roots, the ones we're born with, and the ones we put down for ourselves. We each have to decide for ourselves how far down those roots should go. But for me, I don't ever want my roots to keep me from reaching and flowering as much as possible.

Keep reaching!

Blue and white, and blue

I've always loved the combination of blue and white. And lately I've discovered that I like editing photos. You may have notice that in the last post or two. I'm sure I'll get tired of trying out the different effects with photos, but I'll never get tired of blue and white.

I really, really like blue and white. A lot.

Blue paint on white paper.

Blue and white vases.

Blue and white dishes.

Blue and white flowers.

And because of the unusually dry, windy and warm weather we've been having, the sky has been a darker, clearer blue than usual.

In fact, clouds are very scarce around here lately. It's very pretty, but it's been a very odd year.

What's not blue and white, or even black and white, is how you decide when to let a pet go. Last Sunday Beau had such a bad day that we had all decided I'd have to call the vet on Monday morning. But by Monday morning he had perked up again, and we decided to wait.

We're doing everything the vet suggested, keeping Beau comfortable with his pain pills and other meds, making sure he drinks water and eats something, checking his gums to make sure he's not bleeding internally. But most days now he only eats about half of what he used to, and he's getting very thin. His legs and paws and hips are getting weaker every day from the arthritis, but he can still chase the cat sometimes. His run has turned into a hop, as he keeps his hind legs together for strength.

He still has happy times when his eyes twinkle and his stump of a tail wiggles a little bit, when he comes up to one of us and nudges us to pet him. When he presses his head against one of our legs and looks up at us with what I can only describe as love in those beautiful big brown eyes. But other times you can tell he doesn't wish to be touched, he growls a bit or barks when someone touches him. He can't really clean himself well anymore, and he doesn't like me to brush him. He used to love to be brushed, because that meant it was treat time. Those days are behind us.

Our vet said we'd know when it was time, because his bad days would outnumber his good days. We're at about 50/50 now, I think. The hard thing now is for the four of us, me, Mr. C, the Linguist and the Philosopher, to come to terms with the inevitable. We need to find the inner strength to do what is right for Beau. I'm just hoping we have the wisdom to know when that time has come, because we will have to decide when to have him put to sleep. His heart and lungs are still so strong, they seem like they could go on for years yet. It's his legs and spleen and bladder, and who know what else, that are failing.

This is so much harder than I ever thought it would be.

"One reason a dog can be such a comfort
when you're feeling blue

is that he doesn't try to find out why.”

~ Unknown

One wild and precious life

 

Here are a few of the good things I've noticed in the last few days. 

I'm finding even more intriguing textures everywhere I look.

Everywhere.

Inside

and outside.

New transplants seem happy,

and I'm happy to let volunteers bloom wherever they'd like this year, too.

A little bit of old-fashioned color on the outside windowsill brightens any day.

I'm not really superstitious, but everytime I write about how Beau is doing, he seems to rebound a bit.  So here's another photo of our dear old man snoozing away, along with a nice little shot of Skitzi glaring at the camera.

I came across this wonderful Mary Oliver poem again today. 

Like all of her poems, it gets right to the heart of what's important. . .

The Summer Day

Who made the world?

Who made the swan, and the black bear?

Who made the grasshopper?

This grasshopper, I mean-

the one who has flung herself out of the grass,

the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,

who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-

who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.

Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.

Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.

I don't know exactly what a prayer is.

I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down

into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,

how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,

which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done?

Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?

~  Mary Oliver

And here's Mary Oliver reading the poem herself.  I'm not a fan of much poetry, but I adore Mary Oliver, and she reads her own poetry better than anyone.

“Life becomes precious and more special to us 

when we look for the little everyday miracles 

and get excited about the privileges 

of simply being human.”

~ Tim Hansel